Dirty Laundry is Awesome!

I am feeling pretty honored again today because Amber from Airing my Dirty Laundry One Sock at a Time has written a guest blog for us! She definitely has a way with words, so here is our special treat. And when you are done, go check out her blog!

I’m not going to lie.

 

When I got pregnant the second time I hoped that it was a girl. After all, I had a boy the first time around and it was only natural to want a girl. While clothes shopping for my son I’d always wander into the girl section, fingering the pink and purple shirts, yearning for the adorable dresses.

 

Well guess what? I got my girl.

 

She came out screaming, this pink ball of temper. I assumed she’d be a fairly easy baby as my son had been. As a newborn he’d wake up crying, eat, and then go back to sleep for a few hours.

 

My daughter, Natalie, did not go for this.

 

No, after I fed her and set her down, her eyes would fly open and I swear she’d look indignant as though she were thinking, “How dare she put me down!” And then she’d cry and cry.

 

We learned that someone had to be holding her if we wanted any sleep for the first two months of her life. I would stretch out on the couch and she’d snore on my chest. Eventually she graduated to her swing and then finally, at five months, she took to her crib. But her temper was always there and she’d let out such a yelp when she was angry that I thought for sure something was wrong with her.

 

I even brought her to the doctor.

 

“She cries. A lot,” I remember saying to the bemused pediatrician. “My son never cried this much so something has to be wrong, right?”

 

Nope.

 

The doctor said it was just her (lucky me) personality.

 

And as she grew, she showed it loud and clear. At a year old she told me clearly, “I’m mad.”

 

When she throws temper tantrums, they’re loud and fierce to the point where my son will clap his hands over his ears.

 

“When will she stop?” he’ll bellow.

 

“I wish I knew!” I’ll shout back.

 

A girl. I really wanted a girl the second time around. I’m grateful for her, don’t get me wrong.

 

But I’m really, REALLY scared about what will happen when she turns into a teenager.

 

Help.